My eldest daughter, Sophie, and her family were due to spend six days in their holiday home in Javea, Spain, over half-term but then their plans were scuttled. The French air-controllers were having random strikes over the concept of retirement age being raised from 57 to 59.

That was not their only beef but clearly the most laughable one. They walked out on the day Sophie was due to fly but, undaunted, the family managed to obtain a flight from Gatwick to Minorca; caught a ferry to Majorca, stayed the night and then took an eight-hour ferry to Denia, just over the hill from Javea.

However, they were due to come back on the following Thursday, which was a day scheduled for a further walk-out by the French controllers.

Hearing this news, I was slightly perturbed. I had booked a flight to the UK on that second Thursday, so as to attend the farewell ‘do’ for an old colleague who I had worked with since 1987. I had been emailing, asking for the date for some time, as it is ideal to get in and book flights as quickly as possible, because Ryanair’s prices often rise overnight.

The date was confirmed and quickly I booked a lightening visit, arriving at Stansted on the Thursday evening and heading back to France on Saturday afternoon.

After some 45 years covering Watford and watching them a few years before that, it may be hard to comprehend that I did not check on their fixtures when booking the flight. I was so focused on quickly cementing the reservation that it was not until a few days before my flight that I realised Watford were playing at home to Birmingham and I could have taken in the match.

However, my focus was on making the farewell evening, and I was a little perturbed by Sophie’s experience, as I too noted the air-traffic controllers were scheduled to walk out again, on the day I was due to fly to England. I read reports in the French newspapers to the effect the union was scheduled for talks with the powers that be on the Monday before the strike but the indications were that neither side held out much hope of progress.

There had been a widespread strike of sundry civil servants the previous week, so obviously we are in strike season, for there was also talk of Calais being blockaded.

This ruled out the somewhat expensive and tiring alternative of a ten-hour drive to Calais in order to make the rendezvous. Looking at my limited options, I discovered there was a £109 flight from Beziers on the Wednesday night and duly booked it. This meant, if they went on strike for the second successive Thursday, I would be back in the UK in good time for the Friday night farewell.

Also, by the well-established Law of Sod, as the confirmation for my flight came through, it was more than likely the unions and employers would reach some understanding and the walk out would be called off, and I could fly out as planned.

That is exactly what happened. So I had “wasted” £109 on a back-up alternative. However, as I searched through the Ryanair site looking for details of the strike, I noted there was advice for those who had been unable to fly the previous week. The basic message from Ryanair was: do not cancel your flight; seek to change it.

Ellie and I talked it over and came to the conclusion we would not be flying back until Christmas. So I looked up the Christmas flights and established I could obtain a flight to Blighty for £24 at Christmas, so possibly, if I swapped my £109 flight, I could get two flights at Christmas.

It was a silly thought because we are dealing with Ryanair, who are not customer helpful.

I went on the “Manage My Booking” section on their website and booked my flight for Christmas. When it came time to pay, even I was shocked.

I was not offered a £24 flight but a £109 flight at Christmas. So my entire credit for not flying out in April was being spent on one flight. One might logically conclude that perhaps it was best to cut my losses. Either I lost the £109 completely or I used it to pay for a heavily over-priced flight at Christmas. In a sense it was a no-brainer but Ryanair shot themselves in the foot. In order to facilitate this change of flights, they charge £30.

So I was faced with the obvious choice of discarding my £109 credit, paying £24 for the Christmas flight, and saving myself £6.

How they can justify that I do not know but Ryanair claim to have listened to complaints and become more consumer friendly. This is the equivalent of Hitler, in the face of public outcry, claiming he will not invade as many neutral countries as first planned.

I hired a Corsa for what amounted to 41 hours but I thought the £46 charge reasonable, for the hire was spread over three days: Thursday to Saturday. And I am over 70, which adds a weighting. The brokers sent me to Hertz and I was dealt with by a monosyllabic foreigner who asked me for my registration number on the form. I gave it to her, whereupon she told me sharply: “Not that. I want your registration number.”

I pointed out it said this was the registration number on the form, whereupon she perused it and pointed to another number further down the form, drawing my attention to it as if I had submitted incomplete homework. I looked at the number and pointed out: “What you meant to ask for was the confirmation number.”

“Exactly,” she said without a hint of apology.

I sat in my hired Corsa, looked at the receipt and noticed I had to bring the car back with a full tank. Failure to do so could cost me as much as £139. How could they justify that when the tank does not hold £40-worth of petrol? You can imagine someone held up in traffic, unable to spare the time to fill up their car because they might miss their flight, and then being hit by this pricey charge. Of course I left in good time to fill up when I returned the car.

Ah the joys of being an international traveller.